


The Black Sparrow

by AliGKey



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: AU, Assasins, Assassination, Black Sparrow, Canon, Clexa, F/F, F/M, Flashbacks, Heda, Linctavia - Freeform, Rewrite, Sisters, The 100 - Freeform, commander - Freeform, scifi, sparrow - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2019-04-30 13:11:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14497710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliGKey/pseuds/AliGKey
Summary: They call me a murderer, heartless, cruelThey call me a sword for hire, a killer, an assassin.They call me Wanlida, bringer of deathI am The Black SparrowSparrow has been alone since she was thirteen. Her family dead, her sister taken, her only option is to survive in any way she can. She first killed when she was thirteen. Now the most famous assassin on earth, everyone fears her name. No one escapes The Black Sparrow, not until she meets Skikru. There, she learns to live again, to heal her soul before it's to late. She may even learn to love





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry, I'm not going to be posting regularly until about June 1st. I will try to post as often as possible, but I may not be able to post as much as I would like, as I play high performance sports. However, in the summer I will be posting every other day. Thanks everyone! - Ali

Epilogue 

The bright midday sun shines through the forest, down onto a small village. The streets are alive with life and activity, traders at their posts, vendors selling things street side, lively conversation around every corner. On the outskirts of the town, two chubby little girls play beside a small house. They are both young, only around five. One is taller with flowing black hair, the shorter one with shiny chestnut, but they both bear striking green eyes. Giggling and screeching, they chase each other through the garden. A tall women comes out of the house, smiling as she sees the playing children. 

"Sparrow!" She calls out in a musical voice. "It's time to do your chores."

Both the girls stop playing and groan. They quickly run over to her, emerald eyes still sparkling.

The taller girl with the black hair looks up at her, speaking with a pleading voice. "Can't we play a little longer Mama? I don't wanna do chores yet."

"Now Sparrow," her mother says. "You can go back to playing after. You need to collect the firewood, and your sister needs to help me with some housework."

With a defeated sigh, the raven haired girl trudges off the the forest, while her sister goes into the house to help her mother. Once she is in the forest however, she can't help but be a little distracted from her task of collecting sticks for the fire. She saunters between bushes, picking flowers and berries, grabbing the occasional twig. 

After a few hours have passed, she finally completes her task. Even though it has taken her triple the time that it normally would, she feels happy that she got to explore by herself for a while. When she returns however, the happiness is soon dimmed. The streets are now quite, but the girl is too little to notice the change. When she reaches her front door, she hears crying.

She rushes into the house, to see her mother sobbing, hands over her face, her father silent beside her. Tears glisten in his eyes too, and the child knows something is wrong. She stands frozen at the door until her mother sees her. 

She runs over to her, relief showing on her face as she pulls her into a tight hug. "Oh Sparrow," she gaps in between sobs. "Your alright... your alright..." 

The young girl is confused as she breaks away from the hug. "Mommy?" She asks, looking up at her parents with a confused expression. "Where's my sister?" 

At the sight of the child, her mother breaks down again, too hysterical to respond. 

Her father looks at her with red eyes. "Your sister is gone Sparrow. They took her. They took her while you where doing chores." His voice thickens. "They would haven taken you to if you were here." 

By now tears are streaming down the young girls face as well, heart breaking at the thought of her missing sister. Her once smiling face is now full of pain, and her hands shake. She clutches the long necklace around her neck, black with a golden sparrow on the end, to steady them. The necklace was a present from her sister.

Finally her silence breaks. She kneels down and weeps with her mother, her father holding them both tight, telling them it will be alright. 

It won't be.

Seventeen Years Later: 

Firelight flickers across my face as I survey the crowd in front of me. Four men sit in the corner, warriors by the looks of their swords and tattoos. Another sits by a fire near me, alone. I go back to spinning my knife, the sharp end digging into the soft flesh of my fingertip. 

The winter wind is chilly, but it doesn't bother me with my hood pulled over my face, and my back scarf tightened over my mouth. The only part of me visible are my eyes, but they are covered in black warpaint. Rule number one of my job is to never show my face. It's makes me an easy target if I do. 

The pressure of the spinning knife on my finger increases, and I quickly stop before I draw blood. The though of me bleeding in public always fills me with panic, so I often avoid coming out in the daytime. At least at night my block blood with be more concealed.

Because of my blood, my childhood was taken away from me. After my sister was taken when I was four, my parents rarely let me do anything but train, and every time a Fleimkepa came to our village I would be forced to hide in the woods. But it was still a better fate then having to fight in the conclave, train with other Natblidas, and kill 

Finally, the man alone by the fire walks over to me, keeping his head down. He's around 6'2, lean built, sword at his side. An uppercut to the jaw before he could react, and then a knife to his head would probably get me out of any trouble.

He sits across from me, hand twitching nervously on the table 

"I'm looking for a little bird to do a job for me," he says quietly, voice gruff. 

I too keep my head down. "You've found one. Follow me." 

I quickly stand up, pocketing my knife, and turn into a dark ally. He follows, and once I'm sure we are far enough away, I turn to face him.

He looks startled for a second, seeing my partially exposed face covered in warpaint, but shock quickly leaves his face.

"Are you The Black Sparrow?"

"Yes," I reply smoothly. "I believe you said something about a job?"

"I did." He says, voice not as sure as before. I can see fear in his eyes, but his face remains expressionless. 

The man slowly hands me a piece of crumpled paper. "I need you to kill this man. He is Andrus kom Azgedakru, a merchant that sells knives.

"Do you know where he is now?" I question. I wasn't willing to travel up north in winter for one kill, no matter how much I got paid for it.

"Yes," he replies. "He lives here in Polis, and has a stand on trade street. He goes to the tavern across from the tower every night." 

"Any family?"

"No, just him."

"Age?"

"Thirty-five." He says gruffly. "Can you do it or not?"

"Oh, I can do it," I reply smoothly. "And I will. But first I need to know why you want him dead. What did he do?"

He looks at me with shock, but doesn't question me at all. "He captured and tortured my wife." His voice breaks. "And then he killed her, along with my two children." 

Silence hangs in the air.

I feel a rush of pity for this man, having lost his family. It's hard to lose everyone you love, and no one knows that better than me.

"I'll do it." I say finally in a low voice. "But it will cost you six weeks worth of wages." 

Silently, he hands me a small brown bag. Coins jingle inside it as a places it in my hands. "That should be more than enough."

I nod. "Thank you. Look for his body tomorrow morning."

With that I spin around into the night, and run back to the street. I hastily stuff the coins into my jacket pocket as I go, and break into a brisk walk, careful to keep my head down. From years of experience, I know it's easier to make the kill sooner than later. It gives me more time to get another job, and besides, tonight is a perfect night to kill a man.

I walk through the dark streets, footsteps light. Stalls along the streets are abandoned, and some people huddle around fires, trying to keep warm in the icy air. It's been a hard winter. The moon shines above me, stars twinkling brightly against midnight black. It should only take me two more minutes to get to the tavern where Andrus probably is. 

As I walk, I pull out the piece of paper the man gave me. I never though to ask for his name, but sometimes it's better to not know much about my employers. Less contact the better. On the paper is a well done sketch of Andrus. He's a hostile looking man, with a large jaw and nose, shaved head, and braided beard. He shouldn't be to hard to kill, especially if he's drunk. 

I finally approach the tavern. It glows bright against the dark of night, and I can hear laughter coming from inside. A sad smile spreads across my lips. It been so long since I've genuinely laughed. Slowly, I approach the front door and swing it open. Warmth from inside instantly washes over me, and no one notices as I slip through the crowd towards the washrooms. Everyone is happy and laughing, talking over drinks, kissing, arguing lightly about insignificant things. Head down, I hurry inside the restroom and lock the door. 

I quickly throw back my hood and inspect my face. War paint covers my eyes. It's a dark black, and swoops across my eyes, fanning out at both edges like a birds wings. My hands quickly plung into the sink basin and I use the water to wipe the paint off of my face. Too suspicious. Once it's gone, I can see my striking features again. High cheekbones, tanned skin, and brilliant emerald eyes. Dark black hair fans around my shoulders, pulled off my face in warriors braids. There. Now I don't look as suspicious. I quickly check that my long knives are still hidden in my jacket sleeves. Feeling their cool metal, a wave of calm washes over me. Good.

Plastering on a fake smile, I slip out of the restroom and survey the crowd. My eyes dart from table to table, searching for the face of my target. At last I see him, sitting at the edge of the bar. Quickly, I make my way over to the empty sheet next to him, and order a dink. I pretend not to notice, but I can see he's staring at me. Call me cocky, but this was exactly what I expected to happen. 

I let out a girlish giggle that sounds so fake, no one but a drunk person would believe it. 

"Hello." I say in a high, breathy voice. Urgh.

"Hello." He replies dumbly, still staring at me smitten.

This was going to be a long night.

 

After a few hours of careful flirting, and multiple drinks, I finally convince him to come to the ally with me, telling him I have something very important to show him. At this point he's so drunk he can barley stand, so I wouldn't call it much of an accomplishment, but hey, he's here. 

I lean against the grimy ally wall, and warp my arms around him, kissing him. I feel a grin start spreading on his face, and push a disgusted feeling back. 

Finally we break apart. Or more accurately, I shove him off me. He starts to lean back in, but I push him back. "You know," I breath, "I think I've found out something about you. Something about you killing a mans wife and his children." 

His body tenses.

Without giving him time to react, I punch him in the jaw. As he stumbles backwards in shock, I place a powerful kick to his side, and he falls to the ground.

Gasping for air, he tries to get to his feet, but I kick him again, this time in the face.

"Bitch!" He gaps. "Who sent you here?"

I smile sweetly. "That's none of your concern. Your real concern should be me." 

I pull up my sleeve to reveal a tattoo of a sparrow in flight. Andrus's eyes immediately fill with terror

"You're the...the..." he stammers, his face shocked

"The Back Sparrow." I finish. "And now your going to have an accident. You were drinking to much, slipped, hit your head on the concrete, and then painfully died."

I grab his head, and smash it twice against the cracked street. Dark, crimson blood spurts from his skull as a screams. One more time I slam it down, and then his body goes limp. 

Quickly, I search his pockets for any money he might have on him. Nothing. I grab my black scarf out of my bag and pull it around my head before taking off down the abandoned ally. Someone must have heard him scream. 

My feet pound the hard concrete, not stopping until I reach an old brick building. I turn the corner, and rush towards a black wooden door. Twisting the rusted handle it opens, and I slip side the room. It's dimly lit by candles and lanterns, filled with a warm glow. A small bed is in one corner, with a tiny brown table and chair in another. Swords, throwing stars, and more knives hangs from the wall closest to the door. 

I slam the door shut, lock it, and then slide ten additional locks closed. You can never be too careful in my line of business. 

My name is Sparrow kom Trikru. Most people however, know me as The Black Sparrow.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have literally been writing any chance I got these last few days. Before school, on the bus, before I go to sleep, literally everything to try to post every other day. Tell me what you all think in the comments! (Just ignore the end notes if they show up for you, it's a glitch and I can't get rid of them, sorry :( )

Almost three weeks have passed since the murder, and no one had come knocking at my door yet, or attacked me in anyway, so I assumed it was safe to go back to work. 

I sit alone is a dark corner of the tavern where I killed Andrus, dressed in my normal work clothes. Black leather pants with lacing all the way up the front, combat boots, navy shirt, and a black studded leather jacket, with the hood pulled over my face. Oh, and of course the black scarf across my mouth, but no warpaint today. Black has always been my favourite colour, perfect for staying hidden in the darkest shadows. I play with the chocker around my neck, black leather with a golden sparrow in the centre. My hands graze over its intricate wings, and memories flood through me. The charm was a gift from my sister, handmade before she was taken. She also has one, identical to mine. 

In front of me people laugh and talk, lively and happy. The crowd is thick here, the noise draining out any background chatter. The tavern is a good place to meet my clients, because no one ever does know what I look like. They do however, know how to find me. Ever since I became a well-known assassin, my name has spread through the black market and the underground. People talk about where to meet me. Find the tall women with a black scarf over her face, and ask for a little bird, that's why they always say. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I see a clocked figure walking towards me. I keep my hands under the table, ready to draw my knives at any moment. The figure is about 5'7, lean and wiry, keeping a hidden face like mine. Smart. They slide into the seat across from me.

"I'm looking for a little bird." They say in a quite, clear voice. Female.

"You've found one," I reply quietly. This place should be safe to talk in. 

The woman across from me pulls back her hood and looks up revealing her face. Dark chestnut hair pulled back into complicated braids, sculpted face, and light green eyes. She looks familiar. My eyes travel upwards, and then rest on the intricate piece of golden metal on her forehead. That's why I recognize her.

My eyes lock onto hers, meeting her steely gaze. "Heda."

She looks very different then I remember. Being an assassin, I tend to stay away from public gatherings, or really crowds at all in the daytime. Too much of a risk of someone recognizing me. When I last saw the Commander was on her ascension day. She was wearing her black war paint that looked similar to mine, and had the commanders red sash slung across her shoulder. Right now however, she is dressed in plain clothes, face bare of makeup. 

"Correct" she confirms. "And I am interested to know if you would be willing to work for me."

Now I'm confused. "Do you want me to kill someone?" I ask. "Normally people just say they want someone dead."

"No. I want to offer you a position as my personal assassin."

I look at her, incredulous. She wants me?

"You are the best in the land, Black Sparrow." She smirks, seeing my confusion. "And I find myself in need of a new assassin." 

Thoughts race through my head. I could work for her, but that may result in less jobs, and she would have to know who I was. I could not work for her, but then she may kill me, and it would be me turning down the chance at a steadier job. 

I see her looking at me, with an unreadable expression on her face.

"Interesting," she muses in her still steely tone. "Most people would instantly say yes to their Heda out of respect and fear."

"Well I do not respect the Heda, a position only won with the killing of others." I respond coldly. The Heda herself now had murderous look on her face. Aha! Her name is Lexa. I had forgotten. "But I do however respect the Commander Lexa, the person who brought peace to the twelve clans, and lead us through many battles. Respect is earned, not given."

Curiosity has now replaced the look of rage on Lexa's face."You are very wise, Sparrow," she says quietly. "Yet another quality I look for in my gonas. Will you take the job?"

In the end, the pros of taking the job outweigh the cons. What do I have to lose anyways?

I finally answer. "Yes. But I won't kill anyone unless you give me a good reason to. I only kill if the kill is for justice, not just vengeance." 

This was true. I never, ever, have killed someone unless they deserved it. Countless times I have turned down jobs, because the kills were for vengeance, not justice. It was my way of holding my broken soul together, even if only by a thread.

Lexa's gaze meets mine again, and her intense eyes search my face for any expression. I give he none. "You are an assassin. You job is to kill, not to question why."

My voice takes on a now steely tone matching hers. "Wrong." I reply cooly. "This is my offer, take it or leave it."

The Commander pauses and looks down and the knife she's playing with in her hand, thinking. After a few minutes she finally looks back up. "Fine, you have your deal. I have a job I need you to do already. I have just been informed two representatives of the ski people have come, wanting to talk to me about peace. Since I now know of their technology, I wish to give them a chance for peace, but to do that someone must die. Have you heard about the assassin yet, the one they call Finn?"

I nod. The news of the village massacre had been buzzing through Polis all week. An assassin from the ski people had come into a village and slaughtered eighteen innocents. 

"You want me to assassinate the assassin?” I guess quietly. That should be easy. The Ski people can’t fight, and without guns they have no way to defend themselves. Sneaking in and killing one teenage boy shouldn’t be a problem.

“Wrong,” Lexa whisper quietly, leaning forward to ensure no one can hear us. Her bright green eyes pierce into mine. “I want you to capture the assassin. You will have four days to capture him, and then bring him to me to answer for his crimes. It is the only way to make sure our people will be safe if we make an alliance."

“Four days,” I repeat, shocked. “Um... ok I guess I can do that." My voice strengthens. "Yes, I can. I will deliver him to you the night of the fourth day.” I’ve never actually captured anyone before, but if I knock him out I can probably get him to Lexa in time

Lexa nods. “Fly fast, Black Sparrow.” She pulls her hood back over her head, and silently slips back into the crowd.

I lean back into the chair, stunned. What had just happened? The Commander of the twelve clans, leader of the coalition, winner of the conclave, had just asked me to be her personal assassin. Well, it's a steady job at least. I do wonder what had happened to her last assassin. Shuddering at the thought, I shake it away and focus on my new task. 

Four days including today. Half a day to get to the ski peoples camp, three to do the rest. 

It's a good thing I'm The Black Sparrow.

 

A half hour later I have everything ready. Not wanting to waste a single minute of my time, I had run back to my house and thrown everything I needed quickly into a pack. Traveling light as always, I only brought some water, rope, extra knives, and my hair comb. I can hunt on the way. 

In the cool, breezy air of the forest, I make my way west to the camp. I pick my way through the thick undergrowth, careful not too step on anything that may crack or make a noise. Repas and Mountain Men roam these woods, and being captured would mean death. The sun was just beginning to set when I left, streaking the sky with vibrant shades of red, but an hour into my hike I am now walking in total darkness. The forest around me is calm and still, spider like branches enveloping everything in black. Others might find in eerie, but I always feel at home in the woods. Besides I like the darkness. Countless times it has protected me from wandering eyes, or angry villagers, allowing me to slip into its shadows. 

Above me, the first stars twinkle in the night sky. The rising moon is full, a bright white sphere against the deep ebony. Moonlight washes over my face as I look up. My warpaint is applied again, scarf slung over part of my face. No one alive has ever seen me without makeup or fabric concealing my features. Another safety thing. 

Hours pass, and my thighs burn after hiking over the rough terrain. The moon is now hung in the centre of the sky, meaning dawn still won't come for another couple of hours. Owls hoot in the trees, but besides that the forest is filled with a haunting quite. It seems unlikely that I'll meet someone in the forest, as I'm staying off all main paths, and away from any villages. I decide to keep walking, even alone in the night. I can't really waste any time sleeping, seeing I'm on a deadline and all. 

By now I should be nearing the ski people camp. I walk through the bush with extra caution. If they were smart, the leaders have probably told their guards to shoot to kill. Branches grab my hair, and leaves fly into my mouth, but I stay fully covered in bushes anyways, moving slow to not make sound. The only noises around me are the softly cooing night birds. All is clam. Until I hear a branch snap. I freeze, all my muscles tensing. My green eyes begin raking the forest, searching for anything unnatural amongst the fauna. Fingertips creeping up my sleeve I begin to draw my knife. But before I can, I see the side of a radiation suit poking around from the corner off the tree.

I had only ever seen a suit like that once before, when I saw the Mountain Men taking a girl from the outskirts of a village. I couldn't do anything about it then, so I had sat in silence, begging not to be seen. Everyone knew not to try and stop the Mountain Men, not when they had their guns, especially not if you were outnumbered. The men wore those suit. They were here.

Without a second though I run. Adrenaline flows through my veins, kick starting my tired muscles. Footsteps thunder after me, pursuing me through the bush. Hair whips around my face, branches claw at my arms, but I no longer care as I sprint. With the grace of a deer I dodge trees and clear logs, zig-zagging to avoid getting shot. It doesn't work. I hear a loud bang, followed by a splitting pain in my side. It's like fire burst through my torso, stinging and throbbing. With a groan, I trip and fall to the ground. My black blood slowly begins to pool around me, and my fingers just manage to pull out a long knife hidden in my jacket sleeve. 

The heavy footsteps soon slow behind me, getting closer and closer. I lay as still as I can, knife in hand, my side still screaming with pain. Once I hear the loud breaths coming out of the radiation suit by my ear, I turn and slash. Cruel metal easily cuts through the suit like paper. Blood squirts from the Mountain Mans neck as he falls back screaming with a thud. His red blood pools much faster than mine as he lies there limp. Dead. 

Slowly, I try to get up. I have to make it back to a village, otherwise I'll die out here alone. Attempting to push myself up with my hands, I bite back a scream of pain. Bullet wounds hurt like hell. Clumsily I scramble to my feet, hands clutching my heavily bleeding side. Black stains my shirt, but I push forwards. I make it a few yards before the world starts to spin. Everything quickly turns hazy, and I fall to the ground, vision blurring.

Stubbornly, I push my hands along the ground, willing myself further. After just one push however, pain shoots through my side. I gasp, and my hands collapse, to weak to continue. 

I can't die out here.

"I won't" I mumble to myself. My voice sounds slurred, like I've been drinking. Soon, my vision gets darker and darker. I'm dying. I've lost too much blood to be doing anything else now. Slowly the world goes fuzzy. Calm washes over me, and my pain numbs. This is nice. It's like going to sleep. I hear footsteps approaching me, running fast, but I'm too tired to care anymore. 

I faintly see someone kneel down beside me, turning me off my chest, and onto my side. It's a young women, with blonde hair and stunning blue eyes. 

"Hey, don't die on me just yet." She says shakily. "We're going to help you." She turns quickly, and I realize someone else is behind her. "Bellamy, get me the med kit next to you." She orders. "Now!"

My eyes begin to flutter shut. I can hear muffled words, but soon everything quites. I can't fight anymore. I let the darkness take me, falling into it like a warm blanket.

Everything goes black.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I'm sorry, I won't be able to post anymore chapters until about Tuesday. I have volleyball provincials this weekend and won't be doing anything but that.

Clarke and Bellamy sit on the ground just outside the fence, a bottle of moonshine between them. The cold wind cuts through their clothes, and a full moon glistens above. They had just come back from the village six hours ago, where they had found Finn standing over the bodies of grounders he had just killed. Neither of them had said much so far, so they just sat their drinking. They were supposed to be talking about a possible grounder attack. Being outside of the fence right now was probably a bad idea, but they where close enough the get inside Camp Jaha if they needed to. 

Suddenly, a gunshot cuts through the air, breaking the silence of the night. Clarke instantly jumps up and looks around. "What was that?" She asks. 

Bellamy too jumps to his feet, picking up his gun. "I don't know. It sounded like a gun shot coming from the woods." 

A second later a scream splits through the air, loud and bloodcurdling. 

Instantly, Clarke stars towards the forest, holding a med kit in one hand, and a pistol in the other. 

"Wait!" Bellamy shouts, running after her. He grabs her wrist and pulls her back. "It could be the grounders, or the Mountain Men."

She yanks her arm free and keeps going. "It could also be one of the forty seven that were still trapped in the Mountain." She yells back. "C'mon Bellamy, hurry up!" 

They both sprint towards the sound of the scream, running past trees, shoving aside branches. They don't have to run far however, before they see her and skid to a stop.

On the ground in front of them is a girl, matted black hair fanned out around her face, wearing all black. Around her left side is a pool of dark blood. Behind her is a trail of broken branches, and dark liquid on the forest floor.

For a second Bellamy thinks she's dead. But then she lets out a soft moan, and Clarke begins to step forward again. 

"Wait," Bellamy interjects, a concerned look crossing his face. "She's a grounder. She's dangerous." 

"She probably just got shot in the side Bellamy!" Clarke says, shocked. "What could she possibly do?" 

She rushes over to the girls side, muttering a few words to her. Carefully she flips her over onto her side, revealing a large dark stain on her shirt. Clarke turns back to Bellamy.

"Get me the med kit!" She orders. "Now!" 

Hastily, Bellamy scrambles over to her, and wordlessly hands her the med kit. The grounder girls entire face is covered with mud and crimson blood. Warpaint fans across her eyes, which are now closed. 

"She's lost a lot of blood," Clarke mutters. She starts to wrap the now unconscious girls side with a bandage. "We're going to need to bring her back to camp if we want her to live."

Bellamy watches her, still silent. 

Clarke looks up from what she's doing and turns to him. "Look, I know she's a grounder, but she needs our help. She's probably innocent to."

"But her people killed ours," Bellamy interjects. "And even if we did help her, how would we get her into camp? There's no way your mom would approve of us helping a grounder." 

Clarke pauses, thinking. "Raven. She can open the fence for us. We can keep her in my room, and take supplies from medical." Her voice grows louder. "I know you don't want us to help her, but think of it this way. We can use her to get information, and ask her why she's here. She'll be our prisoner." 

Grudgingly, Bellamy nods. The plan makes sense but it's risky. He has no idea why Clarke would want to save this girl. Innocent or not, was it really worth the effort?

The two of them carefully lift her, doing the best the can not to break the bandages, or make the wound worse. She's heavy, and around 6'0, so it takes them a while to make it back to the fence. When they get there, they gently lay her on the ground and Bellamy digs a radio out of his pocket. 

"Raven, its Bellamy." He whispers into the radio, trying not to be heard by anyone inside Camp Jaha. "I need you to shut down the fence." 

Raven responds, voice crackly and static. "Why?" 

"Just do it Raven! Meet us in Clarke's room when your done." 

A few seconds later, Raven comes back on. "It's down." 

Bellamy nods at Clarke, and together they lift the girl through the fence. There aren't many people up at this hour, only guards, probably because it is almost three in the morning. Using back ally's and staying away from main doors, they manage to get the girl to Clarke's room, where the gently lay her down on the bed, and lock the door. Clarke quickly runs to medical to get supplies, as Bellamy stand watch over the grounder. 

A few minutes later, he hears a knock at he door. Carefully, he opens it a crack, just enough to see who's out there. He sees a confused and sleepy Raven, arms crossed in front of him. 

"You better have a very good reason for why you woke me up at three am." Raven threatens. 

"Come inside." Bellamy says quietly, checking the hall before letting her in. 

Raven slowly trudges into the room, but then stops with a gasp as she sees the girl on the bed. 

"Bellamy?" Raven whispers. "Please tell me that's not a bleeding grounder on Clarke's bed."

"It is," Clarke says hurriedly as she strides into the room and locks the door behind her. She's clutching a bag of stitches, as well as pain killers and bandages. "And she's lost too much blood. She needs stitches now." 

Clarke kneels down next to the girl and begins her work, shooing Bellamy and Raven into a corner of her room. 

"Are you insane Bellamy?" Raven mutters, glancing at Clarke. "How could you bring a grounder into our camp!" 

"Ask Clarke." He shoots back. "It was her idea." 

Raven just shakes her head, putting her palm to her forehead. 

After a silent half hour, Clarke finally get up. "There," she exclaims, exhausted. "She should be fine." 

"What the hell were you thinking Clarke, bringing a grounder here?" Raven inquires angrily.

"She was hurt Raven! And now we have a source of information."

"We have to know why she was here, and who shot here." Bellamy interjects. "Grounders don't use guns." 

Everyone exchanges a worried look. Only them, and the Mountain Men use guns. 

"Fine," Raven says with a huff. "But we need handcuff her to the bed or something." 

Bellamy and Clarke nod. They make there way over to the girl on the bed, her jacket lying on the ground beside her, and tie one arm to the bed stand. 

"Hey Clarke, what's up with her blood?" Raven asks, peering down at the black stain on the grounders shirt.

Clarke kneels down next to her, fingers gently tracing the bloodstained top. “I...I don’t know. It’s black.” 

Bellamy walks over as well, hands still on his gun. “Is it a grounder thing? Black blood?” 

“No, Lincoln has red blood like us,” Clarke murmurs. “I think her bloods different, a genetic trait. It may be stronger than normal blood as well. She had lost so much by the time we got her here, I was amazed she was still alive.” 

“I guess you were also so amazed you forgot to check if she was armed.” Raven holds up the girls jacket, gives it a hard shake, and eight knives fall out of it.” 

Clarke’s eyes widen at the sight, and she quickly picks them up off the ground, placing them on a desk. She then goes over the the grounder to check for weapons. By the time she’s done, she has four more knives, two that were in the girls pockets, and another two by her ankles. 

“I’m guessing she’s as not innocent and peaceful as you though,” Bellamy scoffs. 

"Yeah, I guess not," Clarke says sadly. "It's almost sunrise. One of us should stay here and keep watch over her, just in case she wakes up. We can't all stay. Someone will notice we're missing otherwise."

Raven flops down into a chair by the bed, arms crossed. "Since you woke me up, I guess I got first watch."

 

\------------------- 

My eyes slowly flutter open. A throbbing pain is racing through my side, and my head feels light. Slowly, my vision begins to focus. I can see a dark grey wall above me, dimly light. I'm lying on something soft and squishy. Where am I? Why am I here?

Quickly, I try to sit up, but pain explodes through my stomach. With a yelp I fall back, breathing hard. Now I remember. I was shot by the Mountain Men. I was lying in the forest, dying, and someone came to me. They must have saved me. Instantly, a million thoughts race through my head. The only camp I was near was the ski peoples camp. I was right outside it actually. It must have been the that found me, and brought me to their camp. But why would you save your enemy?

I look around the room. It's plain and grey, with a desk in one corner, my knives lying on top of it. It has a door directly in front of me, but I can't get up. This seems like someone's bedroom, not a prison. It has clothes and one corner, and sketches tacked on the walls. Dim yellow light illuminates the room, and I realize with a start that there's a girl sitting in the chair next to me. 

She has dark hair pulled back into a messy ponytail, and is snoring softly. Her arms are crossed over her chest, and she has no visible weapons. What kind of guard is she? 

Suddenly her head rolls sideways, and she wakes up with a jump. She slowly blinks, and eyes focus on me. I keep my eyes fixed on her, shooting a cold stare her way, face remaining emotionless. 

"Oh crap!" She shouts. "I fell asleep!"

The girl quickly jumps out of the chair, walking with a slight limp. I can see some sort of metal contraption on her leg.

"This is what Bellamy and Clarke get for waking me up at three." She mumbles as she moves across the room to the table. Next to one of my silver knives is a black box, with wires sticking out of the top. The girl grabs the box, pushes something, and talks into it. "Bellamy? She's up."

I stare at her incredulous. She must be insane. What kind of people are these ski beings?

Suddenly, a crackling noise comes from the radio, and I jump. And then it talks!

"We're on our way." The black box says in a mans deep tone. 

My mouth drops open, but I quickly shut it. What is going on?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I'm so, so sorry I have not posted anything in about a week. I have had an insane weekend, but I won my provincial championships! I now have Nationals coming up, so I hope you guys don't mid a little bit more of inactivity. Here is a slightly shorter chapter, hope you enjoy! 
> 
>  
> 
> Still haven't fixed the end notes. I honestly have no idea what to do, so we're just going to ignore them.

Four people stand across from me, each one looking at me with curiosity. Three girls, and one man.

The first one is the blonde girl that saved me. I remember her bright blue eyes, looking down at me with concern. Next to her is my guard, the girl with the metal around her leg. Standing just beside her is the man, who has curly brown hair and freckles. He looks more nervous the other two, and I can see a gun tucked into his pocket. Damn. Lastly is a girl, who looks the most like a warrior by far. She has long braided hair, stormy blue eyes, and a calculating expression.

So these are my captors. They all look about my age, a bit younger maybe. None of them have any visible weapons, but I’m unarmed, injured, and tied to a bed. I must not look that threatening. An advantage already, among a hundred disadvantages.

The man walks over to me. “Why were you by our camp?” 

Ah. It’s an interrogation. I could go the silent route that most warriors take, but I've found that to be useless in the past. You just end up getting tortured for nothing. A really good lie is so much better, as long as you stick to your story and don't slip up. Let's go with a lie. 

The sky people helped me, so they are probably caring, weak. If I play an innocent, non-threading role, I might be able to convince them I'm harmless. I just need to somehow work my knives into the story.

“I...I was attacked,” I stammer weakly. In my slightly groggy, woozy state, I’m not the best actor, but these sky people don’t seem the brightest. “I was hunting in the woods, and I saw someone following me. I began running, but then I was hit by something. After that I fell down, and blacked out.” I pause. “Where am I?” 

The man glances at the blond women behind him. She nods at him. 

“You're in our camp. We brought you here after you were shot.” 

“And I’m your prisoner?” I guess unsurely. “Being held in a... bedroom?”

The girl with the metal on her leg snickers, and blue eyes fights a grin. Braids girl rolls her eyes, while the man interrogating me shoots them a disapproving look.

“Yes,” he says. “You are our prisoner.”

“And you keep all your prisoners in unguarded bedrooms, only tied down by one hand?”

At my words the two brunettes burst into laughter. The man just looks even more annoyed now. 

“Cut the crap Bellamy,” the braids girl says before turning to me. “Bellamy wants to think your are prisoner, but really we just saved you for no reason. Or Clarke did anyways.” 

I look at them with disbelief. This just keeps getting weirder. 

“So wait,” I say slowly. “You guys just saved me for no reason?”

Suddenly it all falls into place. The blonde girl, Clarke, saved me. These kids weren’t the leaders of their people. That’s why I haven’t seen any adults, and I’m locked in a bedroom. No one knows I’m here but them. 

“Um, yeah, basically,” she replies. “I’m Octavia.” 

Bellamy looks even more annoyed. "Yeah, good job O. Just tell the prisoner everything. What's your name anyways?"

"Sparrow." I reply calmly. There's no way they know who I am. 

"Well Sparrow, you were shot." Says Clarke. "You're going to have to stay here for a few days." 

I raise my eyebrows. "And then what? You jsut let me walk out of your camp?" 

And awkward silence fills the air. Everyone looks at each other, unsure of what to say. Probably because they have no plan at all. Stupid. 

Finally Clarke coughs, breaking the silence. "Listen Sparrow, we need to know if anyone will come looking for you. We want peace with the grounders, so we're not going to harm you. But if you have friends or family on the outside, they may-"

I cut her off quickly. "I don't have any friends. And my family's been dead for fifteen years, so no need to worry about them either."

Raven nods. "Ok then. Bellamy your on first watch!"

"What?" Bellamy says, confused. "Why am I guarding her?" 

"Because she's your prisoner." Raven flashes and evil grin. "And you woke me up at three."

She flounces out of the room, and Clarke and Octavia follow. Bellamy slips into a chair across from me, and I scowl. Still sitting up, my mind begins to wander. I have two options here. 

One, I can just not talk anymore and be their prisoner until they decide to kill me, or torture me, or something like that. Option number two is pretend to cooperate with them, get close, and then kill the one they call Finn. I like the second option more. 

I look over to the man staring at me. His brow is slightly furrowed with concerned, and I can see him trying not to look at me. He must be like me, trying to learn as much about a person as possible as quickly as they can. 

“So,” I say quietly. “Your the one who wants be to be a prisoner.”

He nods. “After what’s happened between our people, I think this is probably the safest thing for us.”

“Us or you? I personally think what our people are doing to yours is wrong.” 

All lies. They came into our village and killed my people, so if anything they deserve every bit of this. What I do to survive. 

Bellamy looks away, but he seems more relaxed. We sit in silence, with him sullenly staring at a wall. Sighing, I slowly fall back into the bed. When my body hits the mattress, I realize how tired I am. The bullet and blood loss must have taken more of my energy than I though. My eyes slowly start dropping closed, and I fall into a restless sleep.

———————————————

 

Octavia, Raven, and Clarke sit together in a deserted corner of the mess hall talking quietly over drinks. They all wear looks of concern, careful not to be heard.

“What are we going to do about Sparrow?” Raven mutters. “She can’t stay in Clarke’s bedroom forever, and theirs no way Abby or Kane will approve of us keeping her here."

"We can try to hand her over to Kane, and see what he does with her." Clarke suggest unsurely. "But that may end up with her dead."

"She might attack someone is we keep her in your bedroom, so that may be a bit better."

Clarke furrows her brow thoughtfully. “She didn’t seem particularly hostile. She may just be a merchant or a healer, not a warrior."

"Their all warriors." Raven replies darkly. "We can't trust her. They don't want peace." 

Silent Octavia finally speaks up. "Lincoln did"

They all fall quite. It was true. Lincoln had wanted peace, and not all grounders were bad. But they still, couldn't trust the girl. 

Octavia rises, eyes downcast. "I'll go take over for Bellamy." She mutters. "You guys can figure it out."

She walks away briskly, keeping her head down. Clarke and Raven exchange a pitying glance. They know what Octavia's been through, and ever since the reapers took Lincoln she had been lifeless and sad most of the time. 

With a sigh, Raven takes a long drink from her cup. "Maybe Bellamy will have an idea for once."

\------------------

When I wake up my guard has changed from Bellamy, to the girl with dark hair, Octavia. She sits in the corner, head down, playing with something in her hands. A knife. I can see she's not alright however. When she occasionally raises her head, I can see red eyes and tear stained cheeks. She's been crying.

Now I'm curious. She seems like a warrior, not like the type to cry over nothing. Let's try out this whole pretend "friends" thing. "What's wrong?" 

Her head snaps up, and she quickly hides her pain. "Nothing. Just having a crappy day like always." 

I snort. "Oh yeah? I don't know how yours could be worse than mine, but you don't see me sobbing."

"That's because you haven't had the person you loved taken by reapers!" she snarls. "Lincolns gone, and I can't do anything about it because I'm stuck here guarding you!"

I fall silent. This girl is a perfect example of a teenager. She is too emotional to understand what information she's giving away. I almost laugh again. So stupid. 

Suddenly, her words start to sink in. Lincoln. My heart hammers. She can't possibly mean who I'm thinking of...

"Kom Trikru?" I ask quietly. 

Her eyes lock onto mine, confused and red. "Yes. How did you know that?" 

A million thought whirl through my head. The reapers took him. How? And when? And who was this girl who cared about him? She was a sky girl, and we were enemies. I quickly push these thoughts away however. Why did I care about Lincoln? He abandoned me. He wasn't anything to me anymore. We clearly weren't friends. Besides, there were no such things as real friends anyways, a lesson I learned the hard way, Everyone will always just betray you eventually. He taught me that.

Perhaps I could use this to my advantage. A plan slowly blossoms to life in my head. Manipulation was my favourite game to play, and it might be very useful. I could pretend to help this girl, who was clearly to caught up in emotions to see clearly. Maybe I could convince her to let me go as well, under the false impression we were friends. It would take a lot of smooth talking and acting to pull this off, but it was honestly my best option at this point. 

"Because I know him," I reply shakily. "And if you start treating me like an ally instead of a prisoner, I can help you."

I deserve an award or something for this acting.

Octavia slowly nods, reaching into her jacket. She pulls out the black talking box, and pushes its button. 

"Bellamy? You, Clarke, and Raven better get here quickly."

**Author's Note:**

> How do you guys like Sparrow? If anyone is wondering what the timeline is right now, this is about three weeks before Kane and Jaha first try to make peace with the grounders. Also, Sparrow is 22. And a badass.


End file.
